


Downhill

by bestworstperson



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Domestic Bliss, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Massage, Post-Canon, Skiing, Teasing, Will Graham is a Cannibal, no beta we die like men, quick dirty and to the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestworstperson/pseuds/bestworstperson
Summary: Hannibal hurts his ankle skiing, but luckily Will is there.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Downhill

**Author's Note:**

> This whole idea came from my best friend texting me about a dream she had. The only thing in common between this fic and that dream is the ski resort, but I hope this sweet, lil lightly smutty thing brings you some joy in these trying times. ilysm and thanks for reading.

Hannibal’s lounging in front of the fire nursing a glass of wine. He knows he shouldn’t mix pain medication with alcohol, but this is the best his ankle’s felt in hours. His fall, well...crash, at the bottom of the slope was as dramatic and ungraceful as possible. Hannibal navigated the majority of the descent with the same precision he does anything, slicing through the snow with grace and poise. But then it came time to stop. Hannibal maintains that, had that teenager not cut him off from the left side, he would have turned into the stop without issue. Will, who’d taken a more leisurely trip down the mountain, bore witness to the whole incident - including the slight wobble of Hannibal’s legs as he initiated the turn - isn’t so sure the kid made that much of difference, but that didn’t stop him from smiling in agreement when Hannibal suggested they “acquire some fresh meat for dinner.” 

They spared the kid.

* * *

Hannibal listens to Will move throughout the kitchen breathing in the scents that fill the air of the cabin. He had insisted on helping with dinner but Will ordered him onto the couch.

* * *

“Keep it elevated and try not to move it too much. I’ll come in 20 minutes and remove the ice pack. The swelling is already going down, but I don’t want you walking on it unless absolutely necessary.”

“I am a doctor, Will. I do know how to take care of myself.” 

“Yes. And I also know you’re stubborn enough to refuse to do so. ” Will looked at Hannibal with a near overwhelming warmth, raw affection and adoration in his eyes. Hannibal met his gaze and smiled fondly. 

“Yes, Will.”

* * *

Will tosses some butter, garlic, and rosemary into the pan, tilting it towards himself to baste the steak. He feels an undue sense of pressure around dinner, wanting it to be perfect. Wanting Hannibal to feel better. He’s worried about Hannibal even though he knows the injury is minor and they leave the day after tomorrow. But still, no matter how unfounded, Will worries. He pulls the steak from the pan hurriedly, burning his hand in the process. “Fuck!” He can’t stifle the yell. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Hannibal’s voice floats into the kitchen and Will feels his shoulders relax, the pain in his hand recede.

“I'm fine! Don’t you dare get up.” Will cuts his eyes in the direction of the living room trusting Hannibal can feel the sternness in his voice, as well as hear it.

“I wouldn’t dare defy my nurse's orders.” The affection in his voice envelopes Will once again and he closes his eyes against the sensation. He inhales deeply and he can almost feel Hannibal’s arms wrapping around his chest, pulling them closer. It’s ridiculous, Will thinks, to long for someone who’s one room over, someone he  _ has _ \- and who, in equal measure, has him - but still. They spent so many days without each other, then so many more chasing each other that every day together feels like a blessing.

* * *

Will carries a tray of food to the living room, setting it on the coffee table before quickly running back into the kitchen for the bottle of wine for Hannibal and a glass of whiskey for himself. When he returns, he tops off Hannibal’s glass and then sits on the couch to inspect his ankle. 

“I followed your instructions.” Hannibal watches Will at his feet, removing the ice pack to assess the swelling and gently prodding the bruised skin. 

“I can see that.” 

“Don’t I deserve some kind of reward?” His voice drops slightly lower, hinting.

Will glances up at Hannibal, raising an eyebrow. "Your reward is dinner. I think you've had enough physical activity for today." 

"Surely, you could be gentle. I'll admit it's not my preference, but for you I'll always make an exception." 

Will’s mouth pulls into a smirk as he leans forward, hands coming to Hannibal’s thighs, careful of his ankle as he leans forward. Hannibal’s hands reach for Will and his eyes darken. Will presses a kiss at Hannibal’s jaw before bringing his lips to his ear. Hannibal’s heart rate quickens, first at the sensation of Will’s warm breath and then as his voice drops half an octave lower: “Hannibal?” 

“Yes, Will?” It’s a ghost of a phrase. 

“Eat your dinner.” 

Will retreats, a smug grin plastered on his face, and reaches for the food. 

“Shame to taunt the injured.” 

“The taunting’s half the fun. Now, eat.” He places the tray in Hannibal’s lap and settles into a nearby chair with his whiskey. 

“Do you intend to just watch me eat?” 

“I’m not hungry. Besides, you cook for me all the time, the least I can do is return the favor when you’re indisposed."

“And the favor is much appreciated.” Hannibal cuts into the steak, inspecting the piece before putting it in his mouth. “Mmm. Seasoned well. Garlic, rosemary. Nice sear and,” he tilts the steak on its side for a better view off the pink interior, “a perfect medium rare. Well done.” 

“I wasn’t looking for a review,” Will says over the rim of his whiskey glass. 

“Do you not seek my approval?” Hannibal continues eating, expertly balancing the tray on his lap, the finesse that escaped him on the mountain today more than returned. 

“No more than you seek mine.” A shrug; slightly forced casualness. 

Hannibal looks up from his plate, eyes relaxed but focused. “So you were looking for a review, then?” A cheeky smile; very unforced smugness. 

Will pointlessly turns his head to try and hide his smile and takes another drink. “How’d I do with the wine?” Hannibal raises an eyebrow in question. “If you’re giving a review I want it based off of the entire performance.” 

Hannibal waits for a beat, considering, and then, “Though I am enjoying this particular variety, Merlot wouldn’t have been my first choice. I find Cabernets pair better with red meat as they’re less vegetal; however, a nice Zinfandel is ideal. The anise and pepper notes pair extraordinarily well with beef. As for the steak itself, you’ve chosen an excellent piece of meat, though, of course, it’s difficult to go wrong with a ribeye. I appreciate the simplicity of the steamed potatoes and the green beans add a needed brightness to the dish, but I most likely would have gone with broccolini or-” 

“An endive salad, I know. The store was out of both.” 

Hannibal beams with pride at Will. “You’ve been paying attention.” 

They don’t speak while Hannibal finishes the rest of his meal, finding an easy, comfortable silence disrupted only the crackles of the fire. Will takes the tray into the kitchen and tops off his whiskey one more time. When he walks back into the living room, he stops in the doorway. His worry has mostly subsided - the injury really is minor and they've both survived far, far worse - but he still wants to make Hannibal feel better. Even minor wounds deserve to be soothed. Hannibal’s still on the couch, fully settled into it now, and Will watches him for a few moments. Will walks around to the front of the couch and faces Hannibal in profile and who, Will now sees, has closed his eyes. Will doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches, letting his eyes linger across Hannibal’s body. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his fingers wrap around the wine glass. He really is achingly beautiful, Will thinks. 

"You're staring." Hannibal's voice is low and melodic and the slightest bit chastising, but he doesn't open his eyes. 

"I know." 

"Are you going to watch me sleep tonight as well? Seems rather precious treatment for an ankle sprain...even without taking our history into consideration." 

Will doesn't answer but sets his glass on the coffee table. He walks to the side of the couch, parallel to the armrest, so he can look down at Hannibal. He snakes a hand through Hannibal's hair and all of his nerve endings light up when with this slight contact. Hannibal hums at the sensation, relaxing into the feeling. 

"You know, your ankle really ruined my plans for tonight." Both his hands rake through Hannibal's hair, now, scratching  with purpose but not hard enough to inflict any real pain.

"Oh?" Hannibal is already getting hard, which is pathetic, really, but he's already ceded control tonight.

"Mmhmm. I mean you spent all this money renting this cabin, the skis. You packed my bags for me, made sure the kitchen here was stocked so we could cook." Will's hands move to Hannibal's shoulders and starts a deep massage there. "You did all of that work to make this trip special and I wanted to thank you properly." 

"You still can. The rest of me works just fine." 

"True. And we both know that a little pain never scared either of us off, but still. I worry it'd be too difficult to get into the...proper positioning."

Hannibal lets out a shaky breath before responding. He's getting harder faster and as much as he wants to open his eyes and see Will's gorgeous face above his, he knows that those aren't the rules of this particular game. "And what positioning is that?" He manages, though his voice is thinner than before. 

Will's still massaging his shoulders and he senses him lean forward, putting more pressure into the work, and once more bringing his mouth to Hannibal's ear. Only this time there's no cheeky directive. Will's voice is clear and sure when he says "Well it's probably not best to tie you down. Too much pressure on the ankle. Of course," Will's hands slide forward letting them laze up and down Hannibal's chest, surveying the well known territory, "I could just bind your hands. Leaving your legs free would make it easier to spread you open. Make you beg for it. Take what's mine." 

"Will." Hannibal's voice is a whisper, his breath coming in shorter bursts. His cock presses against his briefs begging for attention. His pajama pants make a mockery of trying to hide his erection and he knows Will's noticed when he hears him smile. 

"Look at you. I've barely even touched you and you're ready for me. If you'd been more careful today I'd already be all over you. Wrapping my lips around your cock, running my tongue down your length, sucking you deeper and deeper down my throat. You, grabbing my hair, holding me there as you came, making me take every last drop. You'd like that wouldn't you, Hannibal?" 

"Yes." Hannibal's voice is strained, throat dry; Will's infuriating light. Hannibal's now vise grip on his wine glass is the only thing that's kept it from spilling and he's struggling to sit still now, looking for any movement to provide some relief to the pressure. 

Will's hands slide back up to his shoulders as he stands and Hannibal worries their little game is over. They've teased each other before, of course, but never like this. Never without some relief. Will wouldn't leave him like this, would he? Hard and ready and waiting but denied the permission to give in. No, he wouldn't. Right? 

"It would have been wonderful, wouldn't it? Plus, you're so beautiful when you beg." Will cradles Hannibal's cheek and his presses into the feeling, seeking any kind of contact. His skin burns under the touch and he feels the thin sheen of sweat that's broken out on his body. 

"You'd beg for me right now, wouldn't you? Fully clothed, barely touched. You'd beg." 

"Yes." Hannibal squeezes the wine glass tighter setting aside any fears of it shattering. His left hand grips the back of the couch as his hips lift slightly. 

"Then do it. Beg for me. Ask for what you want." Will rubs his thumb across Hannibal's cheek and it feels like a razor across his skin. Every part of him is sensitive to the touch, now, and he sees finally, clearly what Will's been driving towards this whole time. His mouth starts moving though he can't hear himself over the sound of white noise his head as his mind goes blank and he leans into the sensations.

"Please, Will, anything. Please. Please." If he manages to say anything else he doesn't hear it, his mind an endless loop of "pleases." He's vibrating with desperation and is  _ so close _ he just needs…something, anything, Will.

"Open your eyes, Hannibal." 

He hesitates for just a second, before his eyes snap open and meet Will's. And it's over. Hannibal's body pulls taught as he comes, his breath now a heaving gasp; he finally loses the grip on his wine, and the glass crashes to the floor. It'll probably stain the rug but he doesn't care. He'll buy a hundred replacement rugs if he has to. He doesn't break eye contact and neither does Will, who's looking at him with an almost overwhelming amount of affection. As Hannibal relaxes and his heart rate begins slowing, Will runs his fingers through his hair again. They're still looking at each other, expressions soft. Hannibal reaches up and grabs Will's hands, bringing them to his mouth to place a kiss on the inside of each wrist. "Thank you, Will." 

"Come on, let's get you into the bath."


End file.
